


Thrall's Return

by BeveStuscemi



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 21:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16048829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeveStuscemi/pseuds/BeveStuscemi
Summary: What was supposed to be a relaxing day of doodling for Sylvanas turned into an exercise in dealing with pretentious orcs.





	Thrall's Return

“Warchief, warchief!” The deathknight ran into Grommash Hold, his ill-fitting plate armour bouncing off his exposed kneecaps. Sylvanas looked up from her burn book where she had drawn a crudely drawn penis by Anduin Wrynn’s mouth.  
“What do you want? I’m very busy.” She picked up her pen and wrote ‘whore’ on Tyrande Wisperwind’s face.  
The deathknight continued. “There’s a weird orc outside, he wants to speak with you.”  
Blightcaller stopped giving Sylvanas a shoulder massage and spoke up. “Listen deathknight, your warchief has told you she is busy so why don’t you take that sword and shove it up—”  
“Shut the fuck up Blightcaller, nobody was talking to you.” The warchief shot her champion a filthy look. “Dig your fingers in harder. I think I pulled something in the Siege of Lordareon.”   
Blightcaller made a sad noise and obliged.  
“Did the orc give a name?” Sylvanas asked.  
“No,” The deathknight replied. “I asked him but he said something like ‘names dictate our future but we should let the world name us’. Bit pretentious if you ask me.”  
Sylvanas rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let him in.”

The deathknight scurried out and Sylvanas continued her drawings. She was halfway through doodling acne on Genn Greymane when her attention was drawn to the figure standing in front of her. He was dressed in an expensive robe though he had torn it a few times to make it look vintage and he wore a flower crown on his braided hair. He looked very familiar but Sylvanas just couldn’t place him. He looked a little bit like Saurfang, if Saurfang had swapped war for a certificate in fine art.  
“That’s Thrall.” Blightcaller pointed at the orc in question while his other hand continued to work the knots in the warchief’s muscles.  
Sylvanas peered forward and squinted. “Oh shit, yeah.”  
“Umm sweetie, my name isn’t Thrall. I’ve been finding myself and I realised that names are just another concept that prevents us from connecting with our true selves.”  Used-to-be-Thrall gave a saccharine smile and Sylvanas just stared dumbfounded at him.  
“Mind telling me where you’ve been? While you were gone we fought off the Burning Legion _again_ , started a war with the Alliance _again_ and level cap is now one-twenty!”  
“Yah, I just saw like the pointlessness of war and how in all honesty, death and destruction is just like a concept that I don’t really buy into. It’s like detrimental to my spiritual growth.”  
A silence filled Grommash Hold.  
“…what?” Sylvanas and Blightcaller exchanged confused looks.  
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Living in Deepholm has broadened my horizons and I now consider myself to be very woke.” Used-to-be-Thrall paused and exhaled in a bid to fill the room with his wokeness. “Why are the Horde and Alliance fighting again?”  
“Azerite and I burned down Darnassus.” Sylvanas replied plainly.  
“It was fucking lit.” Blightcaller finger-gunned but Used-to-be-Thrall sighed.  
“I can’t believe you just said that. When I was finding myself, I went trekking in Winterspring and the sun was just rising and glinting off the snow creating this like, ethereal haze and I really got a sense of the awesome power of nature and the insignificance of all races. So like, war is so like, unneeded in the greater plan of life.”  
“Oh.” Blightcaller withdrew his finger-guns.

Used-to-be-Thrall continued about his exploits during his spiritual journey. He had started to build an orphanage somewhere in Outland but eventually got bored and took selfies for his ‘journey journal’. He had abstained from riding mounts and insisted that walking was good for his soul. On a whim, he learned the Dwarven language. Finally, he had began his own organisation solely focused on fixing Dranei-Orc relationships and had dubbed it ‘Dranei Relationships Matter’.  
“…so I was hoping to create a music festival where we actively promote positive interactions between Dranei and Orcs and like, it would have a peaceful vibe and we would forget about our past differences and accept we are all one race.”  
“Okay,” Sylvanas rubbed the side of her head. “I’ve heard enough about your journey. Why did you want to see me?”  
“Oh, I didn’t.”  
“ _What?_ ” The boredom in the warchief’s tone had quickly turned to fury.  
“Yah, I just wanted to let you know that I’m living my best life and standing up to injustices by being an open receiver of life itself. Perhaps you should try a spiritual growth.”  
“I’m literally dead.”  
“Death is a concept, sweetie. And if you don’t mind, I have to meditate.” Used-to-be-Thrall adjusted his flower crown and left the hold, leaving both Sylvanas and Blightcaller in a stunned silence.

“The fuck was that?” Sylvanas leapt up from her chair and the burn book fell to the ground with a loud thud.  
“Don’t be surprised, my queen.” Blightcaller placed a hand on her shoulder. “He’s been a dickhead since Cataclysm.”


End file.
